


Jealous

by HyphenL



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Cooking, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Rude!Will, dark!Will, jealous!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyphenL/pseuds/HyphenL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will walks on an impromptu date between Hannibal and Alana, which makes him very jealous. And jealous Will is more difficult to handle than Hannibal would have accounted for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealous

 

Will creased nervously the paper bag he was holding, which contained a pretty good bottle of whisky he had brought specially for such an occasion.

He had just closed a case and, with nothing new already pocking its ugly head through the FBI doors of murders, Will could spare a moment to relax.

He had chosen to do so by spending time with Hannibal. It had not been quite an elaborate decision, just a sprouting idea at the back of his head that had surged and grown exponentially as soon as he had left the Bureau and realised he was in a sort of murder-free break.

It was 19 p.m, after Hannibal's office hours. Will had forgotten to call beforehand –or rather, he'd not dared to, relishing in the possibility of a few quiet hours, shaken at the mere idea of a refusal. He'd go away if Hannibal was busy; but at least he'd been able to focus on something soothing until then.

Twitching, he tried to straighten himself up to look presentable. Even Hannibal's doorstep seemed to be frowning at his inelegance.

He knocked twice before reminding himself the house was huge and ringing the doorbell. Hannibal would open with a questioning glance, maybe smile at recognising Will. They would exchange a few words, and either Will would enter the house or go away. In either case, the mere presence of his therapist would do him good. Like a breeze of fresh air.

Such as the one which startled him when the door opened.

“Alana!” Will shouted in surprise –she seemed equally startled. “What are you doing here?” he added, before having had time to monitor his thinking.

Alana grinned joyously and invited him inside. “Why, having dinner with Hannibal of course” she stated. “We were not expecting you. How are you? Did you have a good day?”

“Am fine” Will answered while crossing the doorstep. “I didn't mean to intrude, I didn't think to call.”

“I'm sure Hannibal will be delighted to see you” Alana assured him. “I heard you closed the case. Is that why you're here? To celebrate?”

“More or less” Will agreed, a tad embarrassed at crashing their evening. “Dr Lecter helped, so I thought I'd come by and thank him for it.”

“Well, get your jacket off and join us in the kitchen. Hannibal's cooking something French people call 'galettes de sarrasin', which is apparently a sort of stuffed salted crêpe and smells positively delicious.”

“I noticed that” Will said, folding his jacket to put it away on a nearby chair. “I bet it's something complicated.”

“Not at all!”Alana exclaimed in excitement. “Well, not the way Hannibal's making them, obviously; but it's actually really easy to make.”

“Is that why you're wearing an apron?” Will asked, pondering at the simple white rectangle of fabric she wore, slightly sprinkled with red dots.

“I'm officiating as a sous-chef” she answered. “He pays me with beer.”

“That sounds... quite alcoholic to me” he mused, smiling.

As they reached the kitchen, he heard Hannibal's quiet voice asking who it was.

“A good friend paying you a visit” Alana answered with a smile. “Apparently they've closed the case!”

“Good evening, Dr Lecter” Will greeted nervously as he noticed the man, the sleeves of his shirt folded up, wearing a sober white apron too as he was slicing thin layers of ham from a pork knuckle. “I'm sorry I didn't call; I hadn't planned to come; it just merely... happened” he stuttered.

Hannibal smiled, the corner of his eyes creasing in fondness. “I am glad to see you here William. I suppose your closing that case is the perfect occasion to celebrate.”

Will swallowed and clumsily put the brown paper bag he carried on the counter, feeling quite awkward at not having discarded the hobo-like wrapping beforehand. “I bought you something” he offered. “Though I'm pretty sure you've already got better ones, now that I think about it” he added awkwardly.

Hannibal elegantly unwrapped the bottle of whisky and thanked Graham for his gift. “We should taste it after dinner” he stated. “Which should be done promptly, as long as the cherry tomatoes have been properly chopped.” He glanced towards Alana, who smiled at him and lifted the knife she was using to slice the little red balls. “All done my captain!” she answered. “I figure the one thing missing is actually cooking the _galettes_.”

Hannibal nodded. “Then may I ask of you both to reset the table? I believe we are missing a set of cutlery.”

“Oh, no, it's... fine” Will stammered, flushed. “I didn't mean to crash your dinner. I just expected to pop by and maybe have a drink, not intrude on a long planned something.”

“William, please” Hannibal answered in a slightly mocking tone. “I will not send you away now that you are here.”

“Come on” Alana said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Give me a hand there Will.”

She guided him towards a tall dresser, where she easily found the missing plates and flatware.

“You seem to know this house quite well” Will noticed.

“Hannibal and I use to have dinner from time to time” she answered. “We enjoy cooking together, and watching him do so is always inspiring.”

“You bet” Will commented. “Where do I put these?”

“Let's set them in the dining room” she answered. “The drawing room is definitively too small for us now.”

Will didn't comment on the existence of a drawing room. He'd long ago decided that whatever was fancy probably existed at Hannibal's. He settled the flatware at the end of the insanely long dining table and followed Alana in the drawing room to help her move the remaining cutlery.

The place was cosy and quiet with dim, warm lights which painted the wooden walls and furniture in a sunset-like atmosphere.

Dinner had been set on a tiny round table, where two dining guests would sit quite close to one another, allowed to chuckle and whisper in silence and secrets. One unique, magnificent carved candle stood in-between the flatware sets, yet unlighted. A silvery dessert trolley stood by the table; elegant wine bottles and small, transparent but for their steamy inside plate covers shined on it. Numerous, as a trail of surprises.

“We'll have to take the trolley too” Alana mused. “Can you get it, Will? I'll carry the plates and glasses.”

“Are you two _dating?_ ” Graham asked, frowning, utterly lost in his own world of meditation.

Alana startled. “Not... exactly” she answered. “Though I'm not saying it'll never happen.”

Graham slid a hand through his brown locks. “A date. I'm crashing a date!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“It's fine” Alana answered gently. “We're both very glad you're here either way.”

“How is you dating _him_ ever going to be _'fine'_??” Will exploded. “It's _Hannibal_ , Alana! Why on earth would you date _him!_ ”

Alana blinked in surprise.

“You reject me, and after that you go after him, _of all people_ ” Will added, pacing the room in irritation, gesturing wildly.

“I... am not doing that to hurt you” Alana started carefully. “You know that.”

Will froze in place. “Does it change anything? Does it change _anything?_ ” he cringed. “ _Hannibal_ , Alana! Why _him?_ ”

“Why not?” she answered quietly, a look of concern on her face. “You know you can't date–”

“ _Fucking perfect Hannibal and his perfect hairline_ ” Will mumbled, furious and ignoring her. “Fucking perfect cook and perfect host and perfect whatever with _obviously_ _nothing wrong with him at all_. Fucking stupid _stable!_ ”

“What... is going on?” said person asked in surprise from the door frame. “I thought I heard shouting.”

“It's nothing” Alana answered softly. “Will and I have something to discuss, that's all.”

“ _Nothing?_ ” Will exclaiming, sounding both livid and desperate. “ _Nothing?_ Alana, you're fucking my therapist!”

Hannibal seemed shocked by his choice of words. He glanced at his colleague, then back to Will. “I am not sure how your therapist's private life is relevant to yours” he stated.

“ _You_.” Will spat. “Stay out of this. You _knew_ what I felt towards Alana, therefore you _know_ how 'my therapist's private life' can be relevant to mine. This is between her and I, Dr Lecter.”

“You should calm down” Alana said. “So we can discuss it properly. Hannibal, would you mind waiting for us outside?”

Hannibal pulled a face. “I don't think there is anything that cannot be discussed as adults” he answered.

“Only I'm _not_ a responsible adult” Will gnashed. “I'm fucking _unstable_ , right? And here you are, both of you perfectly _mundane_ , utterly perfect in every single way –it's not like I ever stood a single fucking chance!”

Alana looked concerned. “Will...”

Hannibal cut her short by stepping into Graham's personal space and firmly putting his hands on both of the younger man's trembling shoulders. “I am sorry I did not take your feelings into account” he stated softly, running a soft thumb across Will's upper arm. “I clearly had underestimated your affection for her.”

Graham harshly pushed him away. “For such a smart therapist you're a fucking moron” he cringed –regretting his words as soon as they left his mouth. Alana seemed appalled.

“I believe that was unnecessarily rude” Hannibal replied, looking offended.

Will felt despair crumble on him like a broken house and stepped back miserably.

“I'm sure he didn't mean it” Alana stated, jumping at Will's rescue. “Hannibal, please. Will and I truly need a moment alone, if you would.”

The man stiffened but slowly turned away, tight-lipped in displeasure. As soon as he'd disappeared, Will fall apart.

“I'm an idiot” he whined. “I'm a stupid, fucking imbecile.”

“Don't say that” Alana gently comforted him, rubbing his back to soothe him.

“But you were right!” he weeped. “This is exactly why I shouldn't be in a relationship.”

Alana sighed and got away a moment to find two chairs for them to sit on. Will sat in silence, tormenting his hands in despair, miserable.

“Do you love him?” he asked softly after a time.

“I enjoy his company” she replied earnestly.

He shot her a supplicating look.

“Will, you know what I think about you in a relationship” Alana whispered.

“You made that perfectly clear the last time you stomped on my heart, yeah” he answered bitterly.

He bit his lips. “Sorry. I'm being a complete ass.”

She nodded, but brushed his shoulder with a soothing hand to indicate she forgave him.

“So, this is about love” she offered after a while. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be of anything.”

She sighed. “I don't think it is a good idea.”

“It's probably not, but at least it makes me feel safe and stable. You know how often that happens.”

She smiled, and he couldn't repress an awkward chuckle.

“I'm sorry” he repeated. “And I'm sorry about what I'm going to ask too, but– ”

“I won't be dating him.”

He swallowed, ill-at-ease. “I know I'm being unbelievably selfish.”

“No, I understand” she assured him. “And even though I like him, I have other options, if you must know. So don't concern yourself for me.”

He lowered his head. “He's my anchor” he sighed. “I can't have my anchor tied to your ship –I know it'll sail away.”

She smiled. “You're always as poetic as you're vaguely creepy” she said, and their chuckled.

Alana got up. “I will be on my way” she told him. “Try patching things up with Hannibal.”

He stood up too, nervously. “You truly are a good friend. I have no idea how to make up to you.”

“Stop working for Jack” she said, and he smiled.

They hug each other goodbye, then Alana went to greet Hannibal on her way out, leaving Will alone and uneasy in the drawing room. When he heard the front door close, he guiltily made his way back towards Hannibal's kitchen. The man was piling a perfectly folded _galette_ on top of the small steamy stack that he then carefully wrapped in a neat tea towel.

He gave Will a stern look, yet talked to him with perfect courtesy. “Could you tell me what was that all about?” he asked.

“I'm sorry” Will blurted. “I didn't mean to crash your evening, and I certainly didn't mean to offend you –I know I've been unspeakably rude, I hope you can forgive me for that.” He stopped to catch his breath, and noticed that, even if Hannibal's shoulders had relaxed a bit at the statement, he was still far from forgiving him altogether. “I didn't mean what I said” he added. “You're not a moron at all –in fact, you're so smart most of the time you make _me_ feel like I'm really stupid. I shouldn't have yelled at you. It won't happen again.”

Hannibal's mouth tightened. Then loosened with a sigh. “I would rather it would not” Hannibal answered. “I'll have you know rudeness makes me very uncomfortable.”

Will nodded, then dared to make his way towards his therapist.

“Now, would you tell me why Alana decided to leave?” Hannibal asked.

“Because she's the best of friends and I don't deserve her?” Will answered a tad cryptically.

“William” Hannibal replied in a warning tone.

Graham sighed. “I told her I'm not comfortable with you two dating.”

Hannibal gave him a questioning look. “'Shouted' would be more accurate a term” he eventually remarked.

“Yeah well, I think we've already established I can be a total bastard when I get emotional” Will winced.

Hannibal couldn't help a slight smile. “That still doesn't tell me why she went.”

“So we could talk.”

“We could have talked here while she waited in another room, as I did.”

“Talk over dinner.”

Hannibal pondered. “I am not sure I follow such a trail of thoughts.”

Will fidgeted awkwardly.

“If what you want to talk about is how I hoped to court Dr Bloom, I'll have you remember that even though I am your therapist, I am allowed a private life.”

“ _Court_ ” Will repeated absentmindedly.

“Date, is that is the term you would use.”

“You're so old-fashioned” Will smiled, fondly.

It made Hannibal uneasy, which was odd _per se_.

“Is that what we were supposed to discuss over dinner?” he asked, wondering about the look of affection displayed on the other's features.

“Sort of” Graham answered. He wiggled at bit. “You know I'm still attracted to Alana” he stated.

“Hard to have missed it” the other replied.

“She's right though. We would be wrong for each other. And for a time I've resented her for telling me this.”

“But not anymore” Hannibal completed. “What changed?”

William looked away. “She left...”

He sighed.

“She left because I care about you more than she does.”

Hannibal didn't react –or maybe froze in place.

“She left because while I'm real selfish, she's utterly generous and wanted me to have a chance to tell you just that.”

Hannibal's eyes darted to the bottle of whisky that was standing on the counter before coming back on Will. “To tell me that... you care?” he asked, as if he wasn't sure of what he'd been hearing.

Will gently put a hand on the other's shoulder for balance and leaned in to kiss him gently on the cheek.

“To tell you exactly that” he whispered softly in his ear.

A surge of heat suddenly bloomed near his nose, from the reddened shell of Hannibal's ear.

The man was _blushing_.

“I... am your therapist” Hannibal reminded in an almost perfectly controlled voice.

“I could unofficially fire you” Will suggested, voice low and enticing –instinctively picking up on how to destabilise the other. “Jack doesn't have to know what we say or do while we're together... and probably doesn't care.”

He had expected Hannibal to protest about professionalism, but the man simply looked at him with slightly widened eyes, which most probably indicated that he was totally taken aback by the situation.

“How comes I never noticed” he let out.

“Empathy helps hiding things” Will smiled, pressing his lips on Hannibal's ear. “Because it helps noticing things.”

His hand snaked around Hannibal's burning neck and gently brought the man's head close to his own. “As the fact that you believe you and I could get on, that our mutual understanding of people brings us apart from them, but binds us together.”

He gently pressed his lips to Hannibal's own. “I know you're lonely” he whispered, and kissed him again. “I know you're hungry.”

Hannibal sighed at that, and gave into the touch. Will slid his other hand in the neatly combed hair, messing it up thoroughly. His open mouth took over, and he used his fingers to rather crawl under Hannibal's shirt, discarding the apron messily on the floor.

Hannibal cried in muffled indignation at that. “Shhh” Will said, suddenly seizing him by the waist and lifting the man up to lay him down over the counter. He placed himself in-between his legs and grabbed the opposite borders of the surface on each side of Hannibal's head, to cage him without trapping him. “There's one thing you don't know yet” he whispered softly right in the other's ear.

Hannibal's arms tranquilly curved around Will's back. “That you are much more pushy than what I had accounted for?”

Will chuckled and nuzzled Hannibal's neck. “Haven't you wondered?” he blowed at the thin hair on the offered neck so it would tickle. “Why the FBI is still clueless about who the Ripper might be?”

Hannibal violently reared back into the counter to free himself but Will had been quicker, sinking his teeth deeply into the side of his neck until he could practically feel it turn from neck into meat in his mouth, blood pouring out, that he lapped and swallowed with his tongue.

Hannibal trashed, now in shock over the pain, one of his hands painfully gripping Will's curls.

He could have gotten out, of course; Will had made it so he could.

But he was so surprised, laid on his back, at Will's mercy, the ache of teeth biting him hard on his own kitchen counter. His legs had automatically curled on themselves, trapping Will's own, unwillingly brushing their hips together. In less than an instant his struggle had transformed into and half-baked attempt at escaping, and while his blanked-out mind tried to figure out what was actually going on, the rest of his body rubbed against Will's in a motion he wasn't totally sure was meant to free himself. Will fuelled that with heated friction from his hips.

Hannibal could hear himself moan, horrified at the sound and his loss of control. Will's fingers clang to him like hooks. Finally, and without having even had time to notice he'd been aroused, he dissolved into whiteness and a distant scream that sounded like his own voice.

 

When he came to his senses, Hannibal was alone in the silent kitchen. His apron was folded on the counter, and when he winced at the sharp pain pulsing at his neck, his fingers found his wound cleanly dressed-up in gauze. There was also a glass of water and painkillers waiting for him near the sink.

He stood up on wobbly legs, his mind as quiet as a windless sea. Exhausted.

He swallowed the medicine and decided to go to the bathroom to check on the painful bite.

The door was locked.

He tried another one, but each and every of his doors were closed, aside from the small guest toilettes near the entrance. He seized the opportunity to clean himself and straighten up.

The only other unlocked door lead to the drawing room, from which filtered the gentle sound of classical music and the cooling scent of dinner.

Hannibal checked himself one last time before pushing it open.

Will was waiting for him at the small dining table, sipping from a glass of white wine, which he put down when he saw Hannibal enter.

“I will need the key to my doors back, Will” Hannibal stated tranquilly. “I need to go to the bathroom to examine that wound. I think I might need stitches.”

“Stitches would dull the scar” Will replied quietly. “Please, sit. We still haven't had dinner.”

Hannibal slowly moved towards the chair, careful to not strain his quite unsteady legs. “How long have you known?” he asked casually once he was sat.

“Since the second copycat murder. I didn't link it to the Ripper until Miriam showed up, though.”

“I underestimated you.”

“You miscalculated me. You thought I was so heavily burdened with loneliness that I would blind myself to the obvious as long as you stood in the dark with me.”

“Though the result doesn't feel like a failure” Hannibal remarked.

“It's because you are mine, now.”

The other man frowned. “People don't belong to other people” he reminded Will.

“You do. You're under my skin, so deep my lungs breath in the same air that you do. Which means I have you, I possess you, in a way that only a empath would.”

Hannibal chuckled. “I could still kill you” he remarked.

The table went off flying, harshly kicked up by Will's blunt feet. Broken plates, wine bottles and glasses spilled their gutted contents on the floor. Already past that, Will was sitting on Hannibal's legs, one thigh on each side of his, hands gripping the chair on either side of his head.

“Try” he whispered, and Hannibal marvelled at his beauty.

“I know everything” Will murmured. “I know you inside out. What you like, what you long for. What makes you tick” –he nipped his ear– “how to cater specifically to each of your envies. You're mine.”

Hannibal suddenly felt dizzy and noticed he hadn't been breathing, his air taken away by such a portrait of perfection and desire, by such a vision of violent beauty.

His hands gently pressed at Will's hips.

“How dare you” Will growled. “How dare you date Alana –how dare you date _anyone_ – when I'm the only one who truly sees you, when you've been courting me for so long.”

Hannibal doesn't think of an answer.

“Make up for it” William orders.

Hannibal stays silent, pondering. “You would stand in the shadows by my side” he asks eventually.

“And yet you betrayed me.”

“I didn't mean to.”

“Who was to dine with you tonight?” Will reminds him, nipping harshly at Hannibal's ear. “Who was to sustain charming conversation and sip from that cup of wine?

“You know. Do not stray from me again.”

His eyes seem so dark and cold then Hannibal shivers.

“You won't be alone, you won't be hungry, _as you shall be mine_ ” Will whispers in a low voice.

Hannibal contemplates his demanding face, drinks in the fire that burns dark in the younger man's eyes. Then he closes his own in surrender, and Will Graham smiles.  


End file.
